


Birthday Cake

by sarapunzel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday Sex, Food Play, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, samgabe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarapunzel/pseuds/sarapunzel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sam Winchester's birthday, and true to form, Gabriel spins an over-the-top, unsurprisingly sexual take on the idea of a birthday cake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Cake

Gabriel was truly absurd when it came to holidays. Last Christmas, he’d shown up under an enormous tree in the hotel den, draped with tinsel, and naked— save for the mistletoe cluster hanging from a string around his waist, conveniently obscuring his junk. On Thanksgiving, Sam had woken up to about a dozen live turkeys scuttling around his room, bumping into things and shitting all over the carpet. (Needless to say, he hadn’t gotten his deposit back.) Sam always dreaded Halloween— Gabriel was obsessive about dressing up, and for the archangel the art of the masquerade advanced far and beyond grocery-store Hannibal Lecter masks. He usually liked to transform himself into various villains throughout history, such as Rasputin or Nero or—most horrifyingly— Hitler. (In the case of the latter, Sam had put his foot down and refused to even kiss Gabriel until he’d shed the offensive ‘costume’. In a final stubborn act of rebellion, Gabriel had assumed his usual appearance, but retained the legendary ‘stache.)

So, it went without saying that Sam counted down the days to his birthday with trepidation. There was no amount of protest, pleas, or threats that could put a stopper in Gabriel’s enthusiasm regarding the miraculous anniversary of Sam’s birth. Sam assumed it had something to do with the fact that Gabriel himself had never celebrated a birthday, since he didn’t exactly have one. So he poured all of his limitless energy into Sam’s.

 

The morning of May 2nd, Sam awoke to a surprising lack of—- well, anything. The room was entirely empty, untouched. There wasn’t even a birthday card or a cheesy stuffed animal waiting for him. He immediately felt disappointment sinking in his belly, but reassured himself that no fanfare was preferable to Gabriel’s usual over-the-top antics. Still, by the time lunchtime rolled around and Gabriel still hadn’t made an appearance, Sam was starting to get a little indignant. He hated himself for caring so much whether or not the archangel showed up for his damn birthday, but he couldn’t deny that it was at least minimally upsetting. (Truthfully, it was more like ‘dreadfully upsetting’, but Sam would never, ever admit it, even to himself. Especially to himself.)

Dean had already come by with Cas, bearing the kind of gifts one might expect from an emotionally-stunted ex-hunter and his clueless angel boyfriend. (Read: a stack of classic skin mags from Dean and a thoughtful but aesthetically disturbing hand-crocheted sock puppet of Gandhi from Cas.) The pair of them left around six in the evening, presumably to return to their cheap rental house and fuck each other senseless. It was with this profoundly nauseating thought that Sam stripped down to his boxers (because it was his birthday, and it was his apartment, and he was going to be comfortable, damn it) and decided to raid the fridge for whatever vaguely-sweet confections he had stored away.

He’d been expecting to find a nearly-expired pudding cup, maybe. What he hadn’t predicted was for Gabriel to inexplicably climb out of the fridge (despite being entirely too large to even conceive fitting inside), covered in what looked to be wet chalk. Sam bellowed in shock and nearly leaped backward over the kitchen table. Gabriel spread his arms wide and grinned. “Feliz cumpleanos, Samigo!”

Sam took a few seconds to appraise the bizarre sight in front of him. “What—what are you—Gabriel, what is that crap?”

The archangel looked puzzled and maybe a little offended. “It’s frosting, dumbass.”

“Frosting,” Sam repeated, stiffly. Gabriel gestured extravagantly down his own body.

“I’m your birthday cake!” he exclaimed, clearly proud of himself. Sam was dumbfounded for a moment, and then he sighed.

“This is possibly the weirdest, stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”

Gabriel’s face fell, the hurt visible even under the veil of white frosting. Sam immediately regretted the harshness of his words, and stepped forward hesitantly. “You smell fantastic, though.”

The angel’s eyes lit up. He propped one hand on his hip and grinned. “I guarantee you I taste even better.”

Sam felt that familiar twinge in his gut… and then the subsequent twitch even lower. “Well, you know, I haven’t had any cake today.”

“On your birthday! What a travesty. We should really fix that,” Gabriel hinted, and before Sam could even process a reply the angel reached up to smear frosting across Sam’s lips. Sam licked his lips eagerly and was momentarily shocked by the sheer deliciousness of the frosting. It had been years since he’d tasted buttercream. He’d forgotten how wonderful it was. But there were more important, tasty things to be had, currently.

Sam cupped the angel’s face, feeling the creamy frosting slide between his fingers. When he pulled back to suck the sweetness off his pointer finger, Gabriel groaned and murmured, “Oh, come on.” The next second, Sam found himself pressed on his back, pinned between a sticky-sugary archangel and the cold tile floor of the kitchen. “We can do much better than that,” Gabriel hissed into Sam’s ear, his fingers roving down the sharp cut of Sam’s hip, slipping under the waistband of his boxers. Sam shuddered and bucked upward at the faint touch of fingertips along his cock. “Shit, Samson. Hard already. If I’d have known about this sweet tooth of yours, I would’ve covered myself in frosting ages ago.”

Sam reached up to pull Gabriel’s face down, sucking at the buttercream-sweetness of the archangel’s neck, until Gabriel moaned and shoved Sam into the floor. The back of the hunter’s head knocked against the tile and he grunted appreciatively. There were few things Sam enjoyed more than Gabriel’s rough, possessive manhandling. Gabriel’s magicked Sam’s boxers away, and Sam couldn’t possibly care less as to where they’d gone, as the angel writhed against his eager cock, the frosting leaving sugary trails between them. “You’re aching for it, aren’t you Sam? You hungry, kiddo?” Gabriel mumbled against the hunter’s throat. Sam could only give a weak little nod, and the angel slid up to press the tip of his dick against Sam’s lips. The hunter obliged happily, sucking Gabriel’s length into his mouth with a pleased hum. Gabriel drew a sharp breath, tossing his head back and automatically starting to thrust shallowly into Sam’s mouth. He knew Sam wanted it this way— hard and fast and seemingly violent. But Gabriel was always careful not to actually hurt Sam. He was infinitely stronger than the hunter, and he was perfectly aware that he could break Sam in an instant, in a single slip of control.

Still, it was difficult to maintain that control when Sam was noisily whimpering over the head of Gabriel’s cock, drawing the angel in more deeply, ravenous for the sensation of angel dick in his throat. But Gabriel knew his limits— centuries of practice had made him an expert at keeping his cool. He withdrew reluctantly, and nearly lost it when Sam let out a disappointed whine.

“Don’t worry, kid. You wanna be all filled up? That’s what you get.”

A minute later, Gabriel was working Sam open with deft, mojo-slicked fingers. He knew this was what Sam dreamed about, fantasized about during his long showers and hours alone in the Impala. He liked to be fucked raw; he liked to feel the ache days later; he liked to be reminded of just how completely he belonged to his angel. “Gabe—please—I fucking need it,” Sam stammered softly, eyes shut and chest heaving.

“I’m sorry, birthday boy. What was that? Be specific.”

“Damn it, Gabriel. I need you to fuck me,” Sam groaned, swiveling his hips against the angel’s fingers.

“Well, it’s your special day,” Gabriel replied raggedly, and pushed into Sam with one smooth thrust. Sam cried out, his hands clawing at the floor. “You like that, Samson? You want more?”

“Fucking—yes, Gabe. I need more. Fucking move.”

The hunter was biting his lip, face scrunched up and his stomach pulled taut so that every minuscule edge of muscle was evident. Gabriel nearly stopped what he was doing just to fully take in the gorgeousness of the man underneath him, but a swift upswing of Sam’s hips prompted him to resume fucking the hunter senseless instead.

For several minutes, there was little to be said besides the muttered words of encouragement from Sam and goading remarks from Gabriel, as the pair of them pressed together and away again and again. When Gabriel gasped and involuntarily pressed into Sam more violently than intended, the hunter shouted. “Shit! Oh, fuck. Gabe, more of that— come on,” he instructed between clenched teeth. Gabriel could hardly deny him. He slammed into Sam with abandon, dragging his hands up the hunter’s body to tug at his admittedly hippie-long hair. Sam gave a tortured sort of wail in return, and rocked into Gabriel’s thrusts earnestly. Finally, the archangel felt the edge approaching, and he hastily wrapped sticky fingers around Sam’s cock, jerking him off hard. Sam yelled, “FUCK!” and came within seconds, gushing hot come over the angel’s wrist. Seconds later, Gabriel’s own orgasm struck, and he pounded frantically into Sam a few more times before crying out, “AHH, SAM!” and pulling out to spill across the hunter’s stomach.

For nearly a minute, the two of them simply lay flush together, sharing the heated air and waiting for full consciousness to return. When Gabriel pulled back, it was only to swirl a finger through the mingled come and frosting along Sam’s hip, then languidly lick it off with a smirk. Sam shook his head, smiling. Now that the deed was done, Gabriel could really bask in the beauty of the hunter’s flushed face, defined chest, and absurdly well-sculpted arms. “You know, if I wasn’t doing you, I’d want to be you,” Gabriel said aloud, without really thinking.

“You’re fucking weird. But I guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sam replied, with a chuckle.

“You’re welcome,” Gabriel drawled fondly. “And happy birthday, Sam.”


End file.
